


Of Gardens and Apples

by Mirach



Series: My Good Omens stories [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gardens & Gardening, Humor, M/M, Mathematics, no angst in this one I'm getting soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 04:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20221666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirach/pseuds/Mirach
Summary: Brother Francis and nanny Ashtoreth encounter some trouble in their jobs, in which the other one from the duo might actually be better (especially given the fact that the last time Aziraphale tended to a garden was 6000 years ago and it was a very different type of garden).





	Of Gardens and Apples

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BuggreAlleThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuggreAlleThis/gifts), [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/gifts).

> This story is inspired purely by the TV show, the book treated the subject of Warlock's tutelage a bit differently, and this story contradicts the book canon in some points.  
It is dedicated to the authors, but especially to the readers of the stories [Shifting Heaven and Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070352/chapters/47533399) and [Repossession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710115/chapters/46645777) who have had their hearts repeatedly broken and are still waiting for the "comfort" part of "hurt/comfort". Here, have something funny and sweet to compensate it just a little! ;)  
(Betaed by LoveIsEternal)

The garden of the American embassy was lit by that 'golden hour' glow – the one that photographers appreciate so much - of a sunny evening in late spring. It felt loved. How it _looked_, however, was a slightly different matter.

The door to the manor opened and out ran a boy followed by a red-haired woman in dark sunglasses. The gardener, who was just tending to a rose bush, immediately looked up, his blush matching the rose for a moment. If someone had been watching him, they would have said that he fancied the nanny, but did not dare to tell her, thinking her far out of his league (and some of the embassy staff did watch for things like that, unable to resist a piece of juicy gossip, but nobody was watching in this particular moment). 

The nanny did not walk towards the gardener on purpose. She let the boy explore the garden, encouraging him to throw stones at the birds (but somehow, he never hit one) and squish bugs (but it seemed all of them had hidden somewhere). It just so happened that they got close to the rose bushes.

It was a rare occasion to see the nanny in the garden. The gardener kept his eyes down, not daring to steal a glance from this close.

She snapped her fingers.

Birds stopped mid-flight. Warlock froze on his knees, searching for bugs. Only the gardener and the nanny, who were something other than they appeared to be, were moving in the standing time.

"Crowley? What are you doing here? We agreed that garden is my territory. You get to influence him inside the house..."

"Yeah, your territory," the demon said with a roll of eyes that could be seen even through the sunglasses. "The grass is starting to look a bit wild. And do I see louses on the roses?"

"Oh... yes, well..." the angel stammered, his face dropping. "I wanted to talk to you about it. They... they want to *fire* me. Said the garden didn't look representative. But I'm caring for it! I'm caring for it with love, just like for the garden of Eden! I don't know what's wrong!" 

"Like for the garden of Eden, you say? Hm... I think I know what the problem might be."

"Oh, really? I knew you would be able to help, dear."

"Yeah. Listen, angel. I can help you, but I need help as well."

"Of course, what can I do for you? I mean... what do you desire, foul fiend?"

"Aww, I like when you call me that. So the problem is... it seems that I am expected to teach the kid. Follow a curriculum or something so that he can be accepted to a private school. Seems I can also be fired if I fail in that."

"Well, it shouldn't be that hard, or? You understand all the laws of reality, don't you? Hell, I've seen you creating your own. He's just a kid, it should be easy to explain some basics..."

"Yeah, but the stuff I should teach him is just weird..."

"What stuff?"

"Fractions," Crowley spat the word with a grimace like he would be saying 'communion wafers dipped in archangel shit'.

"Fractions? Like, two thirds plus seven fifths?"

"Of an apple," Crowley wrinkled his nose in disgust. "There's always an apple somewhere in it. Or a pear."

"Ah, that's easy. I happened to read a few books about algebra and teaching."

"Peachy. Wait for me in the usual meeting spot tonight. I'll come right after the little devil falls asleep."

"Crowley! He's not yet, that's what we are trying to prevent!"

"I meant it metaphorically, angel. Nanny slang."

"Ah, okay then."

A snap of fingers and time resumed its usual pace. The gardener only raised his eyes from the rose bush to wink at the young master Warlock as he ran by. The nanny followed the boy without looking back.

* * *

Two occasional patrons sat in the "Cat and Fiddle" pub that night. It was a favourite establishment of the staff of the nearby American embassy, but the table in the corner was always miraculously free when these two gentlemen paid it a visit. Well, one gentleman at least, in that true old-time meaning of the word. The other one looked more like a rock star, hiding from the paparazzi behind his dark sunglasses.

If someone had been listening to them, they might have caught snippets of the following conversation:

"Garden of Eden, right? That's exactly your problem, Aziraphale. All creatures living in peace and harmony? Come on, that's so passé. Now it's all about the food chain. Brother Snail and Sister Slug, _please_... are you aware of the fact that they are eating your salad?"

"But they are hungry. Should I let them starve?"

"Dump them on some other garden in the neighborhood, maybe?"

"That would be wrong!"

Crowley let out a long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, you love all God's creations equally. You love a weed the same way as a rose. You let the snails and the louses feed, because they are hungry. Well, bad news, angel, you will never get a representative garden with that attitude."

Aziraphale sighed as well. "So what do you suggest?"

"Well, for a start, it would be good if you learnt to discern plants that are supposed to be there from those that aren't. For Satan's sake, I saw you tending to a thistle yesterday!"

"But it has lovely silvery leaves..."

The conversation continued in this track for a while. Nobody was listening though. There was a strange field of disinterest around the corner table, making everyone's attention jump to something else if they just looked towards it. The field was only dropped when the patrons wanted to order more drinks. Because of that, nobody listened to the second part of the conversation, either:

"Alright, so this is the denominator. It represents the whole quantity of something that the fraction is being used to represent. And this is the numerator, like a certain part of that whole quantity..."

"...the fuck?"

"Let's try again, shall we? Let's take... apples."

"No. No apples."

"Plums?"

"No fruit."

"Um, okay. Wine?"

"Could use one more glass."

"So, imagine you have two thirds of a glass of wine. Three is the denominator, and two is the numerator. Now, if I pour one sixth of a glass more, how much wine is in the glass?"

"Not enough."

"Dammit Crowley, focus! You need to find the common denominator!"

"Why? I know how much wine there is. I can tell you the number of atoms."

"Yes, right. But humans can't, okay? They need to find the common denominator."

"Alright, alright. Explain it once more, but slowly, please."

The corner table emptied a lot of bottles of wine that evening.

* * *

Nanny Ashtoreth watched from the window, as the gardener worked below. If somebody had been watching her, they would say that she fancied brother Francis, but did not dare to say anything, probably because of a "no love at workplace" attitude she seemed to have. Nobody was watching, though.

Warlock was lying on the sofa, fast asleep. A fivesixths full glass of wine was standing on the table. Two thirteenths of the wine remained in the bottle. The rest was in Warlock. In hindsight, Nanny Ashtoreth thought that she should have probably used the apples, after all. She would miracle the wine out of Warlock and back into the bottle later. Now she used the unexpected free time to steal a few glances at the garden.

Brother Francis was just pulling weed out of a bed of zinnias. He seemed to be apologizing to every plant he was going to pull. Then he carefully dug it out and repotted it into a little paper cup, which he put on a wheelbarrow to replant somewhere else later, obviously.

The nanny sighed.

* * *

"This won't do," Crowley told Aziraphale that evening, when they met at the Cat and Fiddle again.

"So, no progress with the fractions?"

"About as much as you with the garden."

"Ah. Maybe I could try to explain it to you once more?"

"Why do I even have to know this stuff? I do not have parents... adoptive parents, I mean... who want me to get to a private school. Can't you just explain it to him when he comes for a "love all living creatures" lesson?"

"And can't you tend to the garden while I do that?"

"Nah, that's not a nanny's job. It would look weird."

"And teaching is not a gardener's."

"If there only would be some way to trade places for a day..."

"Wait. What did you say?"

"Trade places? Wouldn't they notice that a nanny is tending the garden and the gardener is teaching the kid?"

"Not if we exchange faces."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale. "I would have to wear that stupid forebite? Forget that."

"I think it's better than heels."

"They make my legs look longer and elegant."

"As if you need them. They look perfect anyways."

"Oh?"

Aziraphale blushed when he realized what he just said. He coughed. "Anyways... it should be theoretically possible. We can take any likeness as long as we can imagine it vividly. And... uh... I believe I can imagine you quite well, even in that disguise."

"I can imagine you quite well too."

"Well, 6000 years is 6000 years, right?" Aziraphale smiled a bit nervously. "Right, so, we swap faces for a day, how does that sound?"

"But no influencing the boy for good while you look like me."

"Oh, please. I know how to do your job. How many temptations have I done in your place? And, I suppose I don't need to ask for the same?"

"Sure, sure. Good Brother Francis will teach the kid about peace and compassion. Oh gosh, that will be fun, wearing something straight from the museum."

"It's not! I've had it since the 1800s, bought it straight from the tailor."

"That's what I'm talking about."

Aziraphale huffed.

"Forget it, we should practice the swap. It can be tricky. A demon taking an angel's form? Even if disguised, there will be some morphological resistance."

"Yes, it probably won't be that easy. Let's take a room in a hotel."

If somebody was watching what was going on in that room, they would probably have ended up in a psychiatric ward. Some of the forms and shapes in-between were not meant for someone whose perception works in three dimensions. But by the end of the night, the angel and demon were able to switch their forms seamlessly.

"Who knows when that will come in handy..." Aziraphale mused.

* * *

The next day, the nanny and the gardener went about their work as usual. If somebody had been watching... But nobody was. Brother Francis made sure of it before he turned to the plants with a wickedly gleeful expression. "Now listen, you little shits..."

When he was finished, there was no weed in the garden. Not even a single louse or slug. They decided it would be better for them to pull their leaves back below the ground and wait for a different gardener, or move far away, respectively.

In the same moment in the study:

"...and that makes a full apple. Understood?"

"Yes. One-fourth plus two-thirds is eleven-twelfths, with twelve being the common denominator. Plus one-twelfth is twelve-twelfths, which equals one."

"Excellent, Warlock. Now you may have the cake. But don't tell brother Francis, okay?"


End file.
